Tribute
by Meeerf
Summary: R.I.P., James Oliver Rigney Jr., aka Robert Jordan. October 17, 1948 to September 16, 2007.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Wheel of Time books, nor would I want to. I am just a fan who wants to give a little something in memory of the author whose books I have enjoyed over and over for the past fifteen years.

You may plagiarize my idea if you want to do it with different characters, though crediting me would be a nice thing to do.

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Queen Elayne awaited her new guest on the Lion Throne. Aviendha sat cross-legged beside it. Even after all these years in Caemlyn, she still retained many of her Aiel customs.

Of course, as the Aiel Wise One advisor, she got away with a lot. Where once the Queen of Andor had only an Aes Sedai to guide her, now she had an entire council of _saidar_ and _saidin_ users to guide her. Plus, her own responsibilities to return to the Hall of the Servants once each year. It was all so complicated.

It didn't feel so long ago. Hadn't it been just yesterday than she and Aviendha had been raising their four children together? But now all four of those children were thirty-two years old, and hers had been at the Hall themselves for some years. Karienne was rapidly advancing; she would have to, to take the throne after Elayne. Of course, that would not be for several hundred years yet.

Even thinking of Karienne made her think of Rand again. She never knew when, or if, she would see him, where in this new world he was right now, hiding from those who feared him, feared his immense power, even more so for having defeated the Dark One.

She was pulled out of her dark thoughts as a familiar face walked into the room.

"Loial!" she cried, forgetting her queenly presence momentarily to run and hug him. Aviendha merely rose, but from an Aiel, that was as good as a shout."What brings you here? How is Erith?"

Kisses and greetings over, Elayne released her grip to look at the Ogier. His mustaches were longer, but like herself, he had the advantage of aging much slower relative to the average human, and the rest looked exactly the same.

"I've brought you a present, Queen Elayne." With a flourish, he produced an elegant leather-bound book, obviously hundreds if not thousands of pages long. Elayne nearly dropped it from the weight as she took it from him. Elegant gilded writing spelled out "The Wheel of Time" on the cover.

"The book, you've finally finished it, it's beautiful..." Elayne breathed.

"The Wise Ones must have this book as well," added Aviendha. Then she noticed something. "The author. Who is this Robert Jordan?"

"Well, as to that," Loial said. "As I began the manuscripts, Elder Haman advised me that they might be a little too wordy for humans to read. The final product was fifty-four volumes by the way, it was necessary to provide adequate background starting at the breaking of the world. Then, of course, an entire volume to explain Lews Therin, in order to understand..." Catching Elayne's look, he broke off. "Well. No matter. Some years ago, I met a man named Robert Jordan from the Two Rivers, just south of Emond's Field. Apparently he had a previous military career in the Aiel War and fought with Rand's father, Tam, but now he's taken to retiring and writing history as well. We got to talking, and he offered to help me write Rand's story for the humans as well."

Loial chuckled. "He kept rushing, too, wanting to finish the story in only twenty years. You humans are so hurried!"

"I must honor him," Elayne said. "Surely, a title, perhaps some lands..."

Loial's eyes grew sad, and his mustaches drooped. "Well, as to that..." he began. "He died when this book was almost completed. I thought it was hopeless, but his wife convinced me that I could finish it on my own."

"I am glad you did," Elayne replied, Aviendha nodding as the three of them shared a moment of silence.

Later that night, the near-sisters sat together on Elayne's bed, and opened the book to read the story of the man that had saved the world and brought them together.

_"The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning..."_


End file.
